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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23678425">let's find time for the impossible</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyteague/pseuds/peachyteague'>peachyteague</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff, Français | French, Music</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:48:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23678425</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyteague/pseuds/peachyteague</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>one shot- request- “Bucky Soulmate AU ☺️ plz” -anon - where if a song is stuck in your soulmates head it’s stuck in yours too</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>128</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>let's find time for the impossible</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i hope this is okay. soulmate prompts are still something i’m working on so i’m thankful for the practice. song i used is le temps perdu as sung by carla bruni</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You have to stop!” Sam’s voice suddenly broke the silence, braking the car hard. Bucky turned his head, more than a little confused, “You have been singing No Scrubs under your breath for an hour,” earning an even greater look of confusion, “Oh….”</p><p>“What?” Sam shook his head with again, pressing his foot on the gas, “What?” earning a shake of the head from his companion.</p><p>Rolling his eyes he turned his gaze back out the window, trying to keep himself aware of himself. But somewhere along the way, he had zoned out just a bit.</p><p>“For the love of God!”</p><p>“You have to stop dancing,” your boss said, leaning in the doorway with a face that said he actually didn’t mind but someone else did, “The singing that’s fine. It’s quiet, it’s respectful but at a certain point…” smiling at you with that wide smile everyone did when they felt bad about singing.</p><p>“I get it, 70s funk is not appropriate for the break room,” smiling at him, placing one file in your outbox and grabbing a new one from the in, “No matter how hot my skills are,” it wasn’t Bert’s fault, really it wasn’t anyone’s fault, it was just what it was.</p><p>“And one day they’ll impress him,” that fatherly tone in his voice, “But off the clock.”</p><p>“You got it,” looking down to your papers, “And they were dancing, and groovin’…”</p><p>{}</p><p>He had been coming back from the gym when he overheard his teammates. Normally he wouldn’t zero in on the sound, content to enjoy the time being himself, but Sam said the name of that song and suddenly it seemed very important.</p><p>“You don’t think?” her voice making it sound like whatever they were talking about was impossible.</p><p>His friend sighed, “I dunno. I don’t think it’s a coincidence though. He’s got his head on straight and now it’s happening.”</p><p>She hummed, “I would have to agree.”</p><p>It seemed so heavy and important to them, he wanted to burst in and demand they tell him what they were talking about, but it didn’t seem like that would go his way. There was a reason they were talking when he wasn’t around. I don’t know wasn’t enough to throw what seemed like a pretty big wrench into what he had going for him now. Instead, he continued on his way, trying to remind himself not knowing wasn’t forever, it was just for now.</p><p>{}</p><p>How many people were there on Earth? You didn’t know, the snap and the blip had sort of made census-taking seem unimportant. But lots, you knew that, lots and lots. It was unlikely you’d ever meet this gentleman who seemed to enjoy a style of music that had gone through a metamorphosis over the years. But it was fun to imagine what he’d be like just knowing that. Some nights when the television or the radio just couldn’t break the white noise of monotony, you chose to sit back with a glass of wine and take in the music that seemed to come from nowhere.</p><p>He probably liked to dance, at least, you assumed. Once or twice a sweetheart style song would slip through. La Vie En Rose had been your favorite so far. You hadn’t minded really, swaying in your pajamas, sipping a glass of wine. Coming to the sudden realization that you hadn’t slow-danced since high school and wondering if maybe he would. It was a dream though, right? You would dance, dropping maybe from the equation, and that’s how you would know it was him.</p><p>Except you wouldn’t, the sudden realization hitting you in the dark just before sleep. How many people were there on Earthy? Too many.</p><p>{}</p><p>It had been oddly silent. The first few days, he’d enjoyed it. But then again, they had been out hunting bad guys. By the time they’d made it back and he laid down, sure he was exhausted and ready to fall asleep, the silence suddenly hit him. It was odd, he’d never had an issue with silence before, in fact, he generally enjoyed it more now. It was easier to think, to breathe, to feel almost human. This silence was different though, it made his heartache and he found himself wondering. Where had it come from? Why had it left him?</p><p>He growls when he climbs from his bed, finally deciding he needed answers. Swallowing some of his pride, but not all of it, he knocked on Wanda’s door. He had almost hoped you wouldn’t answer, not quite sure if he was prepared to fall down this rabbit hole. It’s like you knew the second you opened the door, looking at him sadly.</p><p>“The silence is truly loudest,” you said, stepping to the side and welcoming him in, “I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”</p><p>He looked at you, somewhere between confused and angry, “I’d really appreciate it if someone told me what was going on.”</p><p>You gestured to a chair, waiting until he took it to sit on the end of the bed across from him. Soul mates. It seemed such a simple concept to grasp but it still seemed so complicated. Most of his questions ended up with answers of I don’t know.</p><p>“It doesn’t happen to everyone,” trying to explain what little you could, “And it’s different for everyone,” exhaling slowly, “I wish I had more answers for you but at least you have some idea,” climbing to your feet, “I’m sure they’ll come back. Just be patient. Silence can’t last forever.”</p><p>{}</p><p>You looked at Bert sadly, “They don’t tell you how much it sucks,” you finally says, answer his daily question of you okay, baby girl with an honest answer, “They don’t talk about the ones that never find each other. Do they?” shaking your head, “Sorry, I’m just- uh…I’m just…”</p><p>“Why don’t you take some time off?” it’s phrased like a question but it’s not, “Between overtime and paid time off I know you can more than afford it.”</p><p>You dropped the paper in your hand, shoulders slumping, “Where-” he shrugged, “What-” he shrugged, “Bert…” your voice the low warning kind you had learned from Joanna before you’d retired.</p><p>“You’re right, they don’t talk about it. I think it’s because the people who don’t make it are too ashamed to talk about it,” giving you his own sad look, “Know I’ve always been. Because I didn’t try, I just thought it would happen. And then-” he sighed, stepping across the room, hands on you desk with the most serious look in his eyes, “One day the music stopped.”</p><p>It had never occurred to you that would happen, well it had but you had never really taken the thought in. It had stopped a few times since it began and a feeling of loneliness had come in its wake. Somewhere you knew it would always come back but one day it might not. That would be the absolute worst, wouldn’t it? To lose the music and have not even tried. Was it worth the office? Working your ass off for a job you might even get? A job you hadn’t even wanted in the first place.</p><p>“I quit,” feeling truly happy for the first time in a long while, “What’s the worst that happens?”</p><p>He shrugged, “I’m sure you’ll have fun finding out though. I’ll talk with payroll but after that…” giving you that sad smile again, “I’ll hold her off as long as I can.”</p><p>“You know, you can block people on your cell phone any time you want?” standing up from your desk for decidedly the last time, “What next?”</p><p>He shrugged, “That’s all on you, kiddo.”</p><p>{}</p><p>It takes two weeks but the music is back, more than ever. It spans genres, decades, and it’s so much more often. He wraps himself in it, thankful for the overstimulation of his senses after his unwilling fast. New songs that seem so out of the ordinary make their way through. A bit of calypso here, some Japanese techno there. Once more he fell into a steady groove, focused once again on missions. He’s sure the others have noticed but they don’t mention anything, he’s glad for it. He’s only starting to understand what’s going on, he’s not sure he could explain why it suddenly felt so important to pay attention. Until it happened.</p><p>They’re doing recon in Paris, which seems far too romantic looking back on it now, but neither would confess that there was something about how cliché it was. They’re on this street because somewhere in this area, sometime in the nearish future something nefarious was going to happen. Which wasn’t exactly a whole lot to go off of but it kept them all busy. Today it brought him to the cafe, it was his turn to be sitting pretty while the others sat uncomfortably on rooftops and in cramped alleys. At first, he was sure it was the radio. Except no one else seemed to hear it.</p><p>
  <em>Je te propose</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Le temps des cerises et des roses</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Le temps des caresses soyeuses</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Laissons do temps à la douceur des choses</em>
</p><p>“Could you tell me what’s playing?” the waitress crinkled up her nose as if he were a moron before rolling her eyes and walking away, “Alright then.”</p><p>
  <em>Et si ça te tente</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Prenons le temps de faire silence</em>
</p><p>
  <em>D’emmêler nos souffles et nos langues</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Prenons do temps pour les choses d’importance</em>
</p><p>So it was them. He could afford a moment. He used it on the next thought that popped into his head. There was a reason he had thought it was the radio. It was instinct to look around, no matter how futile it seemed. There were a thousand reasons a French song could be stuck in your head, even if you were in the country, what were the odds. But still, he looked around, feeling it grow louder and louder by the second. Something it had never done before. He hopped to his feet. He can vaguely hear Sam’s voice but it’s not important.</p><p>
  <em>Et laissons nous renverser emporter caresser</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Par le temps perdu</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Restons tranquilles immobiles sans un bruissement d’ailes,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sans un battement de cils</em>
</p><p>He steps passed the gate, he turns left and takes a few steps, it begins to quiet. Right, it is. Blue eyes scan the street, it’s crowded but it’s certainly not empty. Who was he even looking for? All he had was a sound in his head. It seemed so important though. Some deep-seated need to find them he hadn’t quite recognized existed even if he had begun to feel it far long ago. Before he had even known what the melodies meant. He had known all of it, somehow, someway. He had no idea who to look for, it was starting to make him angry, he stopped himself. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, getting pissed off wouldn’t help. It would make it worse. It’s a mission. What would he do on a mission?</p><p>
  <em>Et contre l’implacable</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Contre le vacarme do diable</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Trouvons do temps pour l’impossible</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Pour l’inespéré pour l’imprévisible Canciones de Carla Bruni</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s louder here, louder than it’s ever been. His eyes dart but this time they focus. Passing over each person in his path.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Et contre l’éphémère</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Contre la cruauté première</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Contre le marbre de nos tombes</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Prenons tout notre temps à chaque seconde</em>
</p><p>A door jingles to his left, someone steps out beside him. It’s all he can hear. His eyes turned.</p><p><em>Et laissons nous renverser emporter caresser par le doux temps perdu</em>, you mouthed, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you turned down the cobblestone. He reaches out, grabbing your bicep tighter than he means to. What else can he do? You gasps, turns quickly, halfway through attempting to wrench your arm out of his grasp.</p><p>“The only line in that song I remember is nos vies s’allongent et soudain les voilà dans nos mains,” it’s dumb, he doesn’t know why he says it. He blames lack of practice, no idea what exactly is happening here, and having heard the song sporadically over the last two days. Always thinking it was the radio from somewhere. Why else would it be louder? Because you’re here. You’re real and you’re here. And you’re looking at him with terror, hope, and a whole battery of feelings he can’t even begin to pick apart, “But I guess that’s strangely fitting.”</p><p>“You’re-”</p><p>You didn’t get a chance to finish, Sam came skidding behind him, ready to go, “Whoa!” sticking his metal arm in front of the man, holding him back, “Not the bad guys, man.”</p><p>“Then why were you-” turning to face the woman completely, “Oh!”</p>
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